Clove's View
by Seafire21
Summary: This is the story of the 74th Hunger Games. But this time it's not Katniss, but Clove telling the story. From beggining to death, explaining why she volunteered for the deadly games, and all her decisions in the arena.
1. Chapter 1

I sit on my bed and stare at the wall. In just a few hours I will be on the train, and my parents will be proud. But honestly, am I ready?

My instructor tells me I excel in training and that I am prepared and will come home successful.

But when it comes down to it, do I truly have what it takes to become a _Victor_? The arrogant side of me puts that thought aside. Of course I am ready; I hit the heart every time. I am also a career, and I've been training for this opportunity my entire life. It had been difficult to climb to the top of my class, but finally I had been chosen to be the female volunteer for my district.

It is quite a feat, considering I am only fifteen years of age, but that is what the vulnerable side of me is afraid of. The male volunteer chosen takes the name Cato, and he is extremely powerful. He is the typical district two career. Huge, strong, powerful, fierce, and most importantly, bloodthirsty.

My secret hope is that someone takes him down before it comes between the careers. If not I fear that it will come down to the two of us. No doubt he would kill me in a heartbeat, but possibly with distance between us I could come out instead.

The only catch to being chosen to volunteer as the female tribute is to be ruthless. When I kill, I must put on a show, otherwise if I return I will simply be shunned. I have to show the other districts that two is becoming stronger.

If I succeed, when I return home I will be known as Clove, the cold blooded, unforgiving victor of the seventy fourth Hunger Games. I need that title, more than I need air itself.

I have been raised to believe that if you are not a Victor, you are worthless. Some may call this cruel, but I know no different. Since the age of twelve, I have been tested to see my full potential, and how far I can be pushed. I have witnessed dozens of public executions, so as disturbing as it is, death doesn't bother me.

I suddenly hear an announcement over the loudspeaker. The reaping will begin in half an hour. I leap off my bed, and for good measure, throw one of my best knives at the cement wall. It bends at an unusual angle, but I could not care less. I can't bring it with me to the capitol, and if I return I will be rich beyond belief anyway. Smoothing down my velvet dress, I walk out of my small bedroom, pushing any nerves to the back of my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Clove peered out of her living room window to see crowds of people surging through the streets to the Justice Building. She snatched a thin navy blue wind breaker off of a coat hook and opened the door leading to the streets. The air was cool, and grey storm clouds hung overhead. The worst of it would come when Clove was in the train riding to the capitol.  
The teachers at the academy secretly chose the people who would volunteer every year. It was against the law to do this, but the teachers would confront the male and female to tell them that they would volunteer. If you were not chosen by the academy but volunteered, you would not have district two's support in the arena. If you were chosen but did not volunteer when the time came, you would be shunned. It had been this way for decades, to ensure that the person taken to the capitol to compete would have the best chance of winning, no matter who was reaped.

Clove stepped outside and melted in with the wave of district two citizens. She was sick to her stomach, and as her adrenaline rush subsided, her body sensed the cold and an icy chill ran down her spine. She pulled her jacket closer, and stuck her hands in her pockets, quickening her pace as she walked. The fact that she even needed a jacket was odd, considering it was late June, but the last thing she needed was to catch a cold right before the hunger games. Finally she could volunteer, and she didn't want to appear weak in front of possible sponsors.

The raindrops felt good on her skin. The fear of the games, which she had tried so hard to rid herself of, was stubbornly refusing to leave. In fact, it was starting to consume her, like a small fire finding a fresh pile of dried leaves. Twenty four of them would go in, but only one would come out alive. She decided to concentrate on her feet. With each step she took, a small puddle was broken, and with every step closer to the Justice Building, her willingness to volunteer for the Games started to shrink. But that was ridiculous! She had trained her whole life for this opportunity, and it was an honor!

The high heels her mother had dug out from the back of her closet were four inches high, and threatened to break at any moment. But worse was that the dirt had turned to mud and every five seconds Clove had to pull them from the earth, making a horrible sucking noise.

But she had been pushed too far and yanked the heels from her feet, throwing them in a nearby ditch. She was extremely irritable today. Clove smiled when the thought of her mother's reaction came to her mind. She would be furious when she saw her daughter boarding to the train on television, bare foot and with soaking wet hair. She took out the intricate knot in her hair and grabbed a few rubber bands out of her coat pocket. Then she put in her usual and favorite style, a high pony tail with rubber bands tied in every few inches until she reached her mid back, where the hair stopped. Oh yes, her mother would be furious. The image of her mother's face in her head made her nerves suddenly disappear.


End file.
